


The Carriage House

by blessedharlot



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Healing, Heavy on Comfort, Looking for Reasons to Live Again, Mild Suicidal Thoughts, Post Sword and Pen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-26 16:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessedharlot/pseuds/blessedharlot
Summary: Thomas finds a good place for he and Jess to start moving on.
Relationships: Jess Brightwell & Thomas Schreiber
Comments: 12
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

_ You need a good place to come home to, Jess. You will  _ not  _ leave major medical supervision and go stay somewhere sterile and... public. I won’t permit it. You need a home, with family there. Family you can trust. Even if it's just temporary. I'll find us something proper, don't you worry. When you're up to leaving this place, it'll be waiting for us. _

Jess didn't much care, and didn't think anywhere would feel like a home to him. A feeling of home was a feeling of comfort, or of belonging, or at least some kind of… rightness. Jess wasn’t going to aim for anything feeling right, or comfortable. He couldn’t even imagine what that would feel like anymore.

But he’d settle for a roof wherever Thomas was.

He stepped out of the carriage at the address Thomas had given him… a parcel of land on the street that marked the edge of Nic and Chris’ neighborhood and the beginning of a popular commercial district. Jess stood staring at the property for a minute. There were high stone walls, as Thomas had mentioned. And Jess could just see the roof of the two-story… house? It was supposed to be their house. It looked more like a stable or a warehouse from here.

On the one hand, Jess was tempted to think he had the wrong address. On the other…

Jess dismissed the carriage.

One end of the property wall had a broad iron gate across a wide, gray flagstone path. But closer to the center of the wall, there was a smaller gate on a footpath that continued inside. As Jess approached the smaller gate, he realized it was ever-so-slightly ajar, possibly for his use. 

Jess slipped through and took a quick, assessing glance around. He faced the shorter side of a long stone building, built to be a workshop perhaps. Small piles of rubble, the same pale stone as the building and overgrown with weeds, sat off to one side.

Puzzled, Jess turned back around to decide what to do with the gate. A desire to securely lock himself inside warred with a lingering uncertainty about the location. If he had the address wrong, he was trespassing, and he might soon value a quick exit. 

Odd as the place was, though, Jess had a small, inexplicable blush of warmth in his chest. He secured the gate behind him, and turned back toward the... house. As it were. 

There was an ordinary wooden door on the short side of the building… but the wide flagstone path curved around to a long side. He decided to explore there first. Jess walked until his boots tapped on the broader stones, and kept walking, and soon discovered the path deposited him at a wide, upswinging wooden entrance to the building. The door was currently swung up. 

There in a cavernous stone space stood Thomas, hand to his chin in thought as he stared into a corner.

Before Jess could worry about startling him, Thomas sensed his presence, looked up and grinned. He spread his hands wide, presenting the place to Jess.

“What do you think?” he said, giddy.

“It’s an old carriage house,” Jess said, realization just dawning. 

Thomas nodded. “It was a repair shop, some time ago, but the business outgrew this place and moved across the city. This beautiful building has just been sitting here! With the equipment gone, we have plenty of room for a big, broad work space here in the back! I made us some long tables, but you see there’s still plenty of space for the development of… printing or binding machines, automaton work, whatever we like.”

Jess realized the place had three trestle tables, that were already accumulating crates of supplies - cogs and sheet metal and other hardware - as well as tools.

“Brilliant,” Jess said with a smile, both approving of Thomas’ ingenuity and wondering if they’d be sleeping on cots between the tables. “Thomas,” he said, “You said ‘in the back,’ that implies there is something in the front of the building that is not work space, then?”

“Oh yes, of course,” Thomas said. “We do need a kitchen. This way.”

Jess followed Thomas back toward the front of the building, this time from the inside, and discovered the small door that he could see from within the workshop was not the same as the small door he’d seen on the outside of the building. The similar doors held between them a sparse but suitable kitchen, off a cozier empty space.

“We’ll get a dining table to place here,” Thomas said. “I think it was an area for clients to wait.”

Jess nodded and he scanned the space, a bit relieved to see Thomas walking toward the open entrance to a stairwell.

“Then our private quarters upstairs, in the old offices,” Thomas said.

Jess followed him up a narrow but sturdy set of stairs. “Ah, so we won’t sleep in the workshop,” Jess said.

“Well,” Thomas said. “Probably not.”

Thomas showed him first one room, and then the other. The small rooms resembled what Jess thought monks might use. Each room had two stone walls butted up against each other, and two other walls that made a corner comprised almost entirely of window. The first room had a pleasant enough view of a nearby copse of trees and the Serapeum. The second saw mostly the neighboring buildings, and the rubble piles Jess had seen in the yard.

It wasn’t until Jess could see them from above that he saw the stone piles for what they were. Most were rectangular, but one was round.

“Thomas, is that an old fountain?” Jess asked, examining the round one.

Thomas smiled. “They had a garden once, for customers to use while they waited. And yes, there’s a fountain. It should be easy for us to clean it up and get it flowing again.”

“Us?” Jess said, smiling.

“Don’t you want a fountain at your house?” Thomas asked, looking puzzled. “It’s a very grand idea. The whole garden, really. They were right, it’s good for waiting.”

“What will you wait for?” Jess mused.

Thomas shrugged. “Inspiration. A quieter head. You, to come home from chasing some terrible idea across the worst parts of town.”

Jess leaned himself against the wall and gave Thomas a look of mock offense. Then he gave the space another glance. It was nearly impossible for Jess to imagine staying in one place anywhere right now. He was only just beginning to realize the size of the restlessness in him. But this place… it had a strange friendliness about it, Jess thought. Thomas certainly wanted to be here. And if Jess had anything in his life worth doing, it was looking after Thomas. If any place was going to be tolerable, it was probably going to be here, with its Thomas-approved workshop and its pile of dilapidated garden.

“Good choice, Thomas,” Jess said. “It’s a good place to be for the next while.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn’t in my original plan for this story; it's an experiment that fits here, so I'm adding it! 
> 
> This interlude between longer chapters is a collection of brief household conversations. Each conversation is between only two people... usually Thomas and Jess, but there's one cameo from Dario.
> 
> Tagged for mention of PTSD nightmares.

“Thomas!”

“Yes?”

“It’s past midnight.”

“Is it? I hadn't noticed the time.”

“Had you noticed your own hammering?”

“Of course I had, I'm not… oh.”

“Indeed.”

“...I'm partway through a tempering.”

“…”

“I'm sorry, Jess."

“Alright, keep going then. But please don’t start another one.”

“Yes, I'll stop after this.”

“And don’t go to bed before eating something, Thomas.”

“... Oh. Right.”

“There’s supper left in the fridge.”

“Yes, thank you.”

* * *

  
  


“I didn't know dishes could pile that high.”

“Well, Thomas is a gifted engineer.”

“Just hire someone, Scrubber, for God’s sake.”

“If we wait long enough, Wolfe washes them.”

“Pardon me?”

“It's true. He visits, gets thoroughly exasperated at us, and washes the dishes himself.”

“…”

“I swear to you, he does!”

“Good God. What other chores does he do?”

“Mostly dishes. But if I cough just right - accidentally, of course - he's twice gone shopping for us.”

“An accidental cough, you say.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you ever get the urge to hand him a pot of numbered tiles after he’s done a chore?”

“Every single time.”

* * *

“Thom'ss.”

“...”

“Thom- Thomas wkup.”

“…”

“Thomas. Thasmaneck. Wake-” *cough*

“...”

“THOMAS!”

“Guh! Oh!”

“Breathe. Breathe, my friend.”

“Jess!”

“You're okay. Thomas, You're alright.” *cough* “Take a breath. It’s alright.”

“I had another.”

“I know. It's alright, that's why I'm here.”

“I hurt you.”

“No, you didn't. I'm fine.”

“Your voice is hoarse.”

“That doesn't count as not being fine.”

“Jess.”

“That's your third nightmare tonight. Do you want to talk?

“No.”

“Alright. Do you need some water?”

“No.”

“Why don’t we get up, sit at the dining table. Get a cup of tea.”

“No.”

“... Alright. Do you want to try to sleep again, then? We’ve got a bit more time.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well. If you’re worried, face the other direction. I'll use you as armrest this time. See how that works.”

“... okay.”

* * *

“Jess.”

“…”

“Jess, you were screaming. Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

“Can I turn up the light?”

“…”

“Jess?”

“No.”

“… Can I get you anything?”

“No.”

“You were… I heard Morgan's name. Do you want to talk?”

“No.”

“Can I touch you?”

“No.”

“Alright. That's okay.”

“…”

“Can I sit next to the bed?”

“…”

“…”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Jess, I'm going to sit right here on the floor. And you don't have to talk. And I won't talk much either. But I'll be right here. Its okay.”

“Okay.”

“…”

“Thank you, Thomas.”

* * *

  
  


“Thomas? Hey.”

“Hello.”

“Everything alright?”

“Oh yes!”

“Whatcha doing down there?”

“Looking up.”

“I can see that. At what?”

“The sky!”

“Well. That's probably a good view from there, then.”

“It’s a beautiful day.”

“True. I'm going to the market for food. Do you need anything?”

“I don’t think so. Don’t let the turtles out.”

“Alright. Wait. Did you say turtles?”

“Mhm.”

“…”

“I made turtles.”

“... Why?”

“In case we need them.”

“…”

“…”

“Fair enough.”

* * *

“Jess, why do you have this many shoes?”

“Different outfits need different shoes.”

“This is so many. You only have one pair of feet.”

“Yes, Thomas, and I should treat them well for that reason.”

“How can you run in these?”

“Ideally, I don't.”

“Your clothes are overflowing your wardrobe. I can’t get your laundry properly put away anymore.”

“Will you make me another wardrobe? I like that style.”

“You're starting to take after Dario.”

“Bite your tongue! There aren’t near enough mirrors in this house to support that statement being uttered.”

“I can feel the inevitability of more mirrors looming on the horizon.”

“Very funny.”

"I'll build an automaton that runs on your growing fussiness over your appearance as its energy source, and it will be fearsome."

"What an exaggeration."

“What's the new paste on your dresser for, then?”

“…”

“…”

“My hair doesn't curl like yours, Thomas. It just needs a little help to sit properly.”

“Mhm.”

“It's not the same!”

“Mhm.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 will be similar to this. Give me a prompt for subject matter you'd like for them (or any visitors) to chat about!


End file.
